


Tales of the Elves of Lothlorien

by Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe (DH AU) D version [12]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Family, Backstory, Brotherhood, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Protectiveness, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories about the elves of Lothlorien, set in the DH AU where Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil are adoptive sons of the Lord and Lady of the Wood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Not Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter summary: Youngest children can get away with anything.
> 
> A/N: Set after Celebrian and Elrond are married (Year 109 of the Third Age), but before the twins are born (Year 130 of the Third Age). So we'll say maybe about Year 120 of the Third Age, in Lothlorien.

"It's not fair that Rumil gets to go with Celebrian back to Imladris." Orophin complained, "You never let Haldir and I travel that far away, when we were that age."

"Plus, I really don't think that Rumil is mature enough yet." Haldir agreed.

Celeborn sighed. Celebrian grinned, and waited to see how her father handled this mini-rebellion. Rumil gave his adopted father appealing look, trying his best to appear both very responsible and very young. Celeborn gave his youngest son a wink; Rumil would be going, unless he did something remarkably foolish in the next few hours. Rumil gave him a huge grin in reply.

Seeing that Celeborn's mind was made up, Haldir sighed, and Orophin chuckled. Celeborn was aware that Orophin was just causing trouble; his middle son knew that at Rumil's age, Orophin had still been dealing with the visions that had sometimes left him incapacitated for hours at a time. It had been Galadriel who had decreed Orophin would stay near her until he was fully trained, and Orophin had never balked on that point. Haldir, on the other hand, probably really thought this was truly a bad decision on Celeborn's part. Fortunately for Rumil this day, Celeborn was the father, and Haldir just the bossy older brother. Oh, Celeborn valued his oldest son's opinion; he did. But both Haldir and Orophin tended to look at Rumil and still see an adorable elfling, when Rumil was a young warrior-in-training, and at least as mature as the other young elves of his age. Still, there was one thing Haldir might not have considered...

"Rumil" Celeborn said carefully, "Is my only child who has NEVER willingly run away from me."

"Kiss-up." Orophin joked cheerfully, kicking his baby brother gently on the shin.

Haldir cocked his head. "Celebrian?!" He asked in disbelief.

His older sister looked a little abashed. "It was really all Ada's fault." She protested.

"Do tell." Celeborn murmured.

"Well, I told you that I wasn't moving again, didn't I?" Celebrian pointed out. "I had friends there in Khazad-dum whom I liked, and I didn't want to pack up and go somewhere new yet again."

"Your MOTHER was the one who wanted to move." Celeborn protested.

"Oh, I know." Celebrian acknowledged, with a cheerful grin for her confused father. "But when I told Nana I was running away, she said "that's nice, iel-nin. Bring back some bread." When I told YOU I was running away, you said "Not on your life, Elfling." Which made me think it might be an effective protest tactic."

"And was it?" Orophin inquired, eyes shining with amusement.

Celebrian shrugged. "Yes and No. Immediately - No, no I was not happy with the results. But Ada did plan a trip for me to go visit my old friends there once every two years for that next decade, so in the long run, I think I won."

Haldir's disapproval having been softened by the memory of his own youthful follies, he gave his father and Rumil a semi-apologetic glance. "In the long run, I think we all won."

Rumil, who never held a grudge, whooped in triumph and hugged his older brother in happy farewell, before going to pack.

Celeborn reached out to squeeze Haldir's shoulder supportively. "Its always hard to see them grow up, I know."

Haldir nodded, face in the controlled expression that his father knew meant the young lieutenant was fighting his emotions. "He'll come back though. And Rumil can probably do almost as good a job of irritating Elrond as I."

Celeborn nodded sagely, though he hoped that his sons would someday forgive their brother-by-law the fit of idiocy that had led Elrond to reject Celebrian for over a century. "Perhaps an even better job, ion-nin. For Elrond doesn't actually know that Rumil is TRYING to annoy him."

Haldir grinned slowly. "Oy, Rumil!" He called. "I have some ideas for you..."


	2. The Youngest Son's Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the DH AU, an elf of Lothlorien led his fellows to the support of the Rohirrim. Only it was Rumil, instead of Haldir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly I am trying to keep my DH AU roughly compliant with book canon except for certain deviations as explained, but my muse is absolutely enchanted by the idea of the elves of Lothlorien coming to the aid of the Rohirrim at Helm's Deep as they did in the movies. However, the muse is sure it was Rumil who led these elves.

"Don't make that face, Hal-nin." Rumil teased gently as one elder brother checked his armor, and the other his weapons. No matter that Rumil was an experienced soldier, had been for several thousand years. No matter that Faronglas, older than all of them, had already done the same. Haldir and Orophin had been father and mother to Rumil, as well as his brothers, for several years. It had been thousands of years ago, but once responsible for a life, always responsible for a life, Rumil supposed. That didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying to get them to relax, though. "After all, iaur-muindor, your face might freeze that way, and then you would terrify those elves who don't know you well all the more." Rumil joked lightly.

Haldir raised an eyebrow at his baby brother but didn't bother to reply aloud. If aid was to be sent to the Rohirrim, it had to be Rumil. So Naneth had said, and they did not doubt her. But Haldir didn't have to like it. And he didn't. But it was Rumil's call.

"Well, no real loss." Orophin, as always, was willing to respond to Rumil's weak jest with a cleverer one of his own. "Its well agreed I'm the fair one of the three of us, after all."

The fair one, the one who saw the future strangely strong, the one who could hear their Naneth's voice across the length and breadth of Arda. Aye, that was Orophin. And Haldir was their leader, and Celeborn's heir apparent as leader of Lothlorien's military. Both needed, in the days to come. Needed for prosaic reasons, and for reasons Rumil didn't even like to think of. But they all knew what would need to be, if Sauron gained the one ring while Naneth still wore Nenya. And Rumil feared he would hesitate...but his brothers would not. Haldir, because he met his fate without flinching, and because his faith in what their Lord and Lady believed to be true was absolute. Orophin, because he'd seen visions of those futures, where Sauron wrested control of Galadriel and her ring.

But Rumil could go to the aid of the Rohirrim, taking with him those elves who remembered and honored their auld alliance with the men of Middle Earth, and who could be spared from the defense of Lothlorien. Rumil had been the smallest of elflings when last elves and men fought side-by-side in great numbers, during the War of the Last Alliance. His and his brothers' own birth father, Emlyn, had laid down his life in the last Battle of the Last Alliance. Rumil, as a very young soldier, had dared to ride from Lothlorien to Arnor, carrying the warning of a dying messenger from the King of Gondor to the King of Arnor. Rumil had been knighted by the human King of Arnor for his valor in daring that trip, as unimpressed as his parents and his siblings had been with Rumil's behavior, at that time. But it made Rumil one of the dozen or so surviving knights of Lost Arnor. And that meant something, to Rumil.

Besides, the Lady Mithrellas had been been kind to Rumil once, and Theoden-King of Rohan was her long-son, as much as was Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. And Prince Galador and Princess Gilmith, the children of Lady Mithrellas and Prince Imrazor, had been Rumil's friends. Imrazor himself had been the friend of Amroth, who had been Rumil's King, as well as his cousin, by adoption. That history of kindness and friendship meant something, to Rumil.

"That is your gift, ion-nin. That your heart will always see your path clearly." Galadriel said to Rumil in parting. Rumil wasn't startled; his Nana often had trouble remembering that it was polite to wait for people to speak aloud before replying to their thoughts. His Adar beside his Naneth gave a long-suffering sigh, but Galadriel worried was more likely to forget the social niceties. And it was clear his Naneth was worried.

His sisters-by-law, Silwen and Eilunwen, had accompanied his mother, and both smiled mistily to see Lady Galadriel abandon dignity and throw her arms around her youngest son. Rumil returned the embrace gladly, though he wasn't surprised by it in the slightest. His Naneth wasn't normal, but all of her children knew she loved them. And not everyone's Naneth would wake a child from a nightmare with hot cider and a favorite snack already prepared, as she'd known they were likely to have a foul dream that night.

Galadriel stroked his face and stepped back, and Silwen hugged Rumil fiercely. "Be careful, sweetling." She said into his ear, and "And remember, when you are with the humans, not to use the Westron words my husband says when he is angry." Rumil nodded and promised, grateful for Silwen's love and care. She had been married to Haldir for over two thousand years, and was almost like another, more practical mother to him, as well as an oldest sister-by-law.

And then Rumil's arms were full of pale-haired, delicate Eilunwen, his brother Orophin's wife of only a few centuries, and the youngest of all of them by the better part of two centuries. "Don't get killed, or hurt." Eilunwen warned in her breathy, teasing voice. "For if you do, they'll never let you go anywhere by yourself again, and then who will uphold the honor of the youngest siblings?" Rumil laughed merrily, glad for Eilunwen's camraderie. She and Orophin were often in Greenwood or Imladris, but when Eilunwen was in Lothlorien with him, Rumil had an ally he could depend on in family squabbles.

Then Eilunwen stepped aside, and Lord Celeborn looked on his youngest son with affectionate, worried eyes. "Listen to Faronglas, as well as to your heart." Rumil's Adar told him sternly. "For Faronglas has fought against Sauron's forces twice before, and may know tricks you and yours recognize not. Tell Estel to listen to Faron, too."

Rumil nodded obediently, clasping his Adar's arm and allowing himself to be pulled into a hug by the stern war-leader of Lothlorien. Few outside the family were aware, but Lord Celeborn was a loving father, as well as a great statesman and leader of elves. All around Rumil, the elves who were to accompany him were saying farewell to their own loved ones, but Rumil sensed surprise at seeing the Lord and Lady of the Wood acting like any other parents.

Then his parents and sisters-in-law withdrew a bit, and Rumil and his brothers were alone. At the same time, they reached out to clasp one another's arms, forming a small circle of brotherly love in the lee of the wood. At the beginning of this age, they had stood together, the three of them alone against all the world. This age had brought them joys and sorrows they could never have imagined, but they remained as close as brothers could be. Carys and Emlyn's sons, the adopted sons of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, the brothers of Celebrian, and by marriage of Elrond. The cousins of Ecthelion by blood, and the uncles of Celebrian's children, which by marriage would soon include Isildur's heir, if they were lucky. Always, the three of them together. Now Rumil's heart led him to make a separate stand, as this age ended.

"Be well, Ru, muindor-dithen. Be safe. You will be far away, but our hearts shall stand together." Haldir said softly.

Rumil nodded, and Orophin nodded. Sometimes big brother, though the least loquacious of them, still said it best. They embraced one last time, and Rumil departed at the head of his command, moving at the fast, fluid, mile-eating glide that was an elven march.

Rumil was a little glad to be past the part of their departure where his brothers acted like clucking hens. He gave Faronglas a look out of the corner of his eyes, to be sure Galadriel and Celeborn's long-time retainer and Rumil's own former elflinghood minder was not going to feel the need to play the role of all-knowing elder on this particular trip.

Faronglas grinned back at Rumil good-humoredly. "No, my young Lord, I long ago realized you had more or less learned to lace your own tunics."

Rumil rolled his eyes, but was grateful to know that Faronglas was here, to correct him if he made a mistake, or to tell him if Faron had a suggestion. But that Faronglas would back off and let Rumil lead, otherwise. And then Rumil paid attention to leading his column, for if Orophin's and his Naneth's visions were true, time was very short, indeed.

Pounding hooves drew Rumil's attention, but the horn calling a friend made the column relax, and continue at its best pace.

It was Orophin, and Galadriel's retainer Sendoron mounted with him. Orophin's eyes were glazed, a vision just retreating. "Listen when Estel calls out to you, my brother, please." Orophin pleaded with Rumil in Nandorin, the language of their earliest memories.

"I always listen to our nephews. Why wouldn't I listen to Estel?" Rumil asked, bemused. He was the least likely of any of him or his brothers to take someone less seriously, just because that person was human and younger.

"We'll listen, Orophin-lad. Don't worry." Faronglas soothed without pausing. Rumil caught his brother's eyes, and nodded firmly. Even Haldir didn't ignore Orophin, when he spoke from a vision.

Orophin nodded back, relieved, and then dismounted. He and Sendoron waited gravely until the column was out of sight, while Orophin's vision-sickness gradually receded. "Be well, baby brother." Orophin whispered one last time, before returning home. For this was a youngest son's gambit, and he and Haldir and the rest of their family would have to wait, and hope.


	3. Song on the Sea Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between a young Lord Rumil, his elder brothers, and a young Prince and Princess of Dol Amroth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the early T.A., as poor DH AU Amroth and Nimrodel die and disappear rather earlier than in canon. The mystery of Mithrellas and Rian's disappearance will eventually be solved about a year after the Ring War, as briefly detailed in "Oh good, that worked," in "Tales of the Telcontars." Mithrellas and Rian also appear in "Interlude," chapter 3 of "The Firebearer's Dogs," along with a descendant of Galador's, Prince Adrahil. Rumil and his brothers and their Lothlorien family also appear in "The Youngest Son's Gambit," the previous chapter of this story.

"It's near midnight, but its almost as bright as twilight." Rumil remarked quietly. The starlight and moonlight reflected off of the waves, illuminating the night and making the young ellon's pale blond hair gleam silver. It wasn't a silent scene, but it was one so naturally beautiful that it seemed to demand the respect of hushed voices.

"It's only half-moon." Princess Gilmith explained in her soft, musical voice. "When Ithil shows full face, one can see plainly the whole bay 'round from this point, just by the light of the moon and the stars, shining off of the water."

Rumil breathed in the salt-tinged breeze, sweetened by the scents of the flowers growing on the forested shore behind them. "But no sign of cousin the Aran Amroth has ever been found, by night or day." He murmured sadly.

"Nay." Gilmith agreed, shaking her head. "Aran Amroth drowned at the morning tide. The fishermen who saw him leap off his ship said that he dove in mid-bay, where the currents from ocean and estuary meet. Anything entering the water just there...well, it may never be found. Or it may turn up in Dol Amroth harbor after a storm, or in an alligator's maw in the marsh."

Rumil shuddered lightly. "We should keep looking. He...Amroth, he didn't want to be in a marsh." Amroth had been Prince and an officer in Lothlorien's army, when they lost half their number in the marshes of Mordor during the war of the last alliance at the end of the Second Age. It was a nightmare of his to drown in a marsh, one Amroth had confessed to Rumil when Rumil had been a small elfling in Amroth's uncle's house, suffering from nightmares of his own. Rumil made a mental note not to mention to his eldest brother Haldir that Amroth's bones might have ended up in a marsh.

Haldir blamed himself for Amroth's death, for reasons which defied Rumil's understanding. Haldir had been in Lothlorien when Amroth drowned, as had Rumil and Orophin and all the elves who were here with their escort, searching for their King's remains to give them proper burial. And searching for Amroth's lost love Nimrodel, who had been the de facto ruler of the large Nandor settlement within the borders of Lothlorien before leading her people to Edhellond, to sail with her and Amroth for the undying lands. Nimrodel had disappeared during their journey, and Amroth had waited for her for decades before sailing, and then leapt from the ship into the bay when he had thought he heard her voice.

Gilmith and Galador's father, Prince Imrazor of Belfalas, had mounted an intense search and rescue effort for the missing elven prince and the retainers who had gone after him, but Amroth had never been found. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, Rumil's adoptive parents, had known when Amroth had died. Not long after Amroth's death, Prince Imrazor himself had passed on, after requesting that his Princedom be re-named in honor of the lost elven Prince who had been his friend. Gilmith and Galador's mother, the Princess Mithrellas, a cousin of Nimrodel's who had journeyed with her and Amroth, had disappeared around that time. Her children searched for her still, for her and for her cousin Rian.

The waves pounded against the shore, and the tree branches tossed in the sea breeze. Despite their serious errand, the moon and stars reflected on the waves were beautiful, and Gilmith good company. Rumil breathed in deeply, savoring the moment of peace during what had been an emotional journey. Then torchlight flickered against the fragrant pines, and the young elven lord and half-elven Princess both reached for their bows.

"It is your brothers, oh nervous ones." Orophin teased his own younger sibling and Prince Galador's little sister.

"Better cautious than dead." Rumil quipped back, paraphrasing one of his eldest brother's favorite sayings.

Galador's white teeth flashed in a smile, echoing Orophin's. Rumil mentally congratulated himself, despite his sorrow. Getting somber Galador to smile was quite a feat. Becoming the ruling Prince of Dol Amroth at such a tender age had made Galador a very serious young half-elf.

"Caution will stand us all in good stead tomorrow, when we enter the largest of the marshes." Galador explained, "Gil and I have been through there several times, always with a local waterman as a guide. Step exactly where he steps; do not deviate."

Rumil nodded seriously as Galador's eyes met his own, then rolled his eyes when Galador turned to answer a question of Orophin's. To his surprise, his new friend the Princess looked ready to agree with her brother. Gilmith had usually been on Rumil's side, when it came to bemoaning the overprotectiveness and general excessive bossiness of elder brothers.

Gilmith's eyes widened ever so slightly, which was Rumil's only warning. Then a pair of familiar arms was wrestling Rumil to the ground. Rumil did his best, but Haldir had thirty some years experience on him, plus a certain tenacity and unwillingness to lose or submit, ever, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Oof! I yield, you troll! Get off of me!" Rumil protested, held fast by his brother.

Haldir didn't let go. Python-like, his muscular arms tightened around his baby brother. Orophin would have made some jest, but Haldir was more serious. His soft voice sounded in Rumil's ear, "If you die in that marsh just because you didn't take the humans and Mithrellas' children's warnings seriously, Ada Emlyn will make you very sorry when you are reborn. And if you so much as put one foot wrong because you're being a young know-it-all in the marsh tomorrow, I'll spank you soundly tomorrow night. And whenever we get home I'll tell Ada Celeborn how you risked your life, and you know he'll have something to say about it."

Rumil gulped. Ada Celeborn would not be at all amused to receive such a report of any of his children. And knowing his oldest brother as well as he did, Rumil suspected that Haldir would probably also tell their adoptive Adar that he, Haldir, had been right, and that Rumil had been too young for this trip, and that Celeborn should never have told Haldir and Captain Brombellas to bring Rumil along, anyway.

Internally, Rumil sighed, but he also tipped his face up to give his eldest brother a contrite look. *I'll be careful, Hal, really I will. Step exactly where the human guide steps, check.*

Haldir winced. He'd never gotten comfortable with speaking mind to mind, an oddity for Orophin's brother and Galadriel's step-son. "See that you are careful, trouble." Haldir warned Rumil sternly, releasing his youngest brother with an affectionate if admonishing look, and a sharp but nearly silent smack to Rumil's backside.

Rumil repressed an elfling-like squeak, glad that Gilmith had been drawn into conversation by Orophin, and hadn't witnessed more than Haldir's initial pounce. Rumil accepted his eldest brother's hand to get back on his feet, and smiled at Gilmith and Orophin. The two looked almost like siblings themselves in the flickering torchlight, both with strawberry-blond hair and light eyes.

"Enough of death and marshes!" Rumil demanded merrily, adding a hasty, "Although we'll all be very, very careful tomorrow," at Haldir's warning look. "But for now, let us have song, and dance! It is too beautiful a night for sorrow!" Rumil proposed to his siblings and to Mithrellas' children. Their fathers had both fought in the War of the Last Alliance, and a fast friendship had formed between the five of them.

Gilmith laughed, silver bells on the wind, and even Haldir and Galador smiled at Rumil's suggestion. The five returned to their campfire, and lute strings and pipes and soft drumming and singing rose to join the sea wind.

Far out at sea, ships of men decided that they must be hearing the ethereal songs of mermaids, all save those who knew the Prince and Princess of Dol Amroth. For both Galador and Gilmith had beautiful voices, almost unbearably lovely.


	4. A skill everyone should know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are skills that everyone should know, whether they be human or elven, male or female.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the early T.A.

Saelestiel wove protection and luck into the garments she created. In doing so, she sometimes changed the future. But she also darned socks and sewed clothing, and those were not lesser things. Even elves were better off, well-clothed and with warm feet.

Sniffling, her lady's youngest child rubbed his sore bottom. He'd been playing again, and had used a half woven cloak as a swamp, which captured his toy soldiers and mired them in imaginary "muck," in reality unraveled strands. The magic was disrupted, and weeks of careful effort lost.

Still, he'd meant no harm. And there were...other things, other protections, that a soldier might need, creeping through a swamp. More, that someone who was not a soldier might need, on the same journey. Saelestiel put that thought aside to ponder later. There was an elfling who needed cheering, now.

"Rumil," she invited, putting a soft cushion on a low wooden stool beside her. "Come here. We can make this cloak into small cloaks for your soldiers. I will show you how to sew them."

Rumil smiled tentatively, glad that Saelestiel wasn't too angry with him. He was a sweet, thoughtful elfling, apologetic to have caused so much trouble. Rumil didn't like to have anyone upset with him, particularly not adults whom he was fond of. But he was also in awe of his elder brothers, particularly Haldir, the soldier. And his friend Cangallon had told him that warriors didn't sew, that it was ellith work. So Rumil told Saelestiel that.

Orophin, writing at a table in the well-lit room, rolled his eyes. Orophin thought that Cangallon was an idiot, but knew better than to say so. Instead, he reminded Rumil, "Haldir doesn't do fancy work like Saelestiel, but he and I both are more than competent at sewing, muindor-laes. And if you do want to be a soldier, you'll need to know how to sew, to fix tears in your clothing and armor."

Rumil smiled, relieved, and turned back to Saelestiel, "I'd like to learn to sew very much, then. Thank you."

So Saelestiel taught her lady's youngest son to sew, because it was a skill everyone should know.


	5. Aid from an Unexpected Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even elves find themselves saddled with family members who aren't to their taste. Although that may be oversimplifying the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the early T.A.

Lord Celeborn, uncle and advisor to Lothlorien's young King Amdir, tried very hard to seem as if he was only reading a book, and not in the slightest bit covertly supervising his recovering youngest elfling's visit with his elder cousin.

"But I'm tired of being indoors!" Rumil whined, which was uncharacteristic of him, but the poor elfling had been sick for a week with a spring cold. A cold that he'd caught when his idiot cousin Ecthelion had been watching him. Celeborn took a deep breath to keep himself from snorting. 'Watching,' indeed! Ecthelion, or Theli as he was called, had simply 'watched' Rumil dive in and out of the water all morning, instead of insisting that he come out and get warm and dry after half an hour, or even telling him that swimming would have to wait until summer had a firmer grip on Caras Galadhon, as Celeborn, or any reasonable adult elf, would have done. No, it was too much to expect reasonable behavior from the young idiot who'd woken up one morning during the last war, and decided, 'I think I'll be a soldier today.' How was it, Celeborn wondered, not for the first time, that his favorite baby cousin Thranduil had talked him into agreeing to let this idiot and Celeborn's precious adopted sons exchange visits every year?

"Ru, little cousin mine," Theli responded patiently, "You can't go outside, because you're still getting over your cold. But I can tell that you're feeling better, because your eyes are clear and your fever's gone. I'm glad for that. Why don't we get out your paints and charcoals, and make a nice get-well-soon picture for Haldir?"

Celeborn suppressed a sigh as Rumil considered Theli's offer. At least, Celeborn supposed, Theli's visiting had been good for one thing. Haldir had been wounded during a training exercise, a hard knock to his weak leg. If Theli hadn't been in residence, Haldir would have had to spend several days at the healer's, which Celeborn's eldest son loathed. Nearly as much as Celeborn had, when he had been a young elf. Rather to Celeborn's surprise, Elrond and all of the other healers agreed that Theli was a more-than-competent young healer. Even if, in Celeborn's opinion, Theli was a less than competent young adult, and poorly educated to boot.

"No," Rumil finally decided, voice rising, "I want to see Haldir! You haven't let me more than wave at him since I got sick, and it's not fair!" Rumil kicked Theli.

Celeborn put his book down, and prepared to intervene. He didn't understand why Theli wouldn't have let Rumil visit with Haldir. After all, Haldir was fifty-one now, a year past his majority, and should no longer even be able to catch Rumil's cold. However, kicking other elves was not acceptable behavior, and Celeborn didn't trust Theli to remind Rumil of that, or not to cave and let Rumil visit Haldir, which would not be acceptable after Rumil's behavior. Celeborn dreaded to think of what his adopted sons must get away with when they visited Greenwood, and lived under Theli's supervision. Another thing that Celeborn wondered how he'd been talked into.

To Celeborn's surprise, instead of giving in and saying that they could go visit Haldir, Theli crossed his arms and scolded, "Rumil Emlynion. It is not acceptable to kick another elf to get what you want. If someone were to kick you, would you be minded to agree to what they'd asked for, or kick them back?"

Taken aback at being spoken to sternly by his normally light-hearted cousin, Rumil blushed, and mumbled, "Kick them back."

"Exactly so," Theli agreed, "And in a position where you were, say, being kid-napped, or bothered by a strange elf, that would be appropriate. However, normally,"

"Ahem," Celeborn interrupted quietly, not able to let that go, "Rumil, ion-nin, no kicking. If a strange elf is bothering you, go talk to the adult you are there with, and ask for help."

Theli rolled his eyes, "Yes, well, if you aren't with an adult, I mean."

Rumil patted Theli's arm, now alert to the need to keep his big cousin out of trouble, "I usually don't go places without an adult, but if someone steals me and runs away and I'm scared, I'll kick them. And bite them, too." Rumil promised, "But I should be in trouble for kicking you. I'm not to kick." He reminded Theli, hoping to show his Adar that Theli wasn't that bad of a chaperon.

Sighing, Theli squeezed Rumil's shoulder gently. "You would be, normally, but I know you're not feeling well. That can make anyone short-tempered. How about instead of painting, you go take a nap, and that can be your punishment?"

Rumil normally didn't like naps, as he felt that at eighteen years of age (the equivalent of a human eight) he was too old for them. Also, he hated to miss anything. But, as opposed to other punishments he might get for kicking, he supposed a nap didn't sound that bad. Especially not since he could probably talk cousin Theli, who was a soft touch, into a story to help him fall asleep. But then Ada would think that Theli was a bad influence again...Rumil bit his lip, and thought. Then he bravely offered, "You should smack me. I know better than to kick."

Kneeling down to look his little cousin in the eye, Theli checked Rumil's temperature again with a careful, gentle hand to the elfling's forehead, and then asked, "You're not running a fever, Ru-nin, but you're not talking sense either. As a healer, I hate the idea of punishing an elf who's still not feeling well, for a poor behavior that they wouldn't have engaged in if they were feeling well, and that they stopped as soon as someone asked them to. Now, why don't we go get you ready for your nap, and I'll tell you a story to help you fall asleep?" Theli asked with a smile, running a gentle hand over Rumil's pale brown hair.

Looking covertly to Celeborn, who nodded that this would be acceptable, Rumil smiled in relief. Then he hugged Theli, who he thought was the best cousin in the world, and then Ada Celeborn, who was the best Ada in the world. Then Rumil took Theli's hand, and as they started to leave the sitting room, Theli paused, and addressed Ada Celeborn.

"You should know," Theli told Celeborn softly, seeming uncomfortable to directly address his cousins' foster-father, "Haldir takes after cousin Elis, um, Elissed, his grandfather. Haldir looks like Elis, I mean. And Elissed, he, well he could catch colds, and such, even when he was older. So, um, on the off-chance that Haldir takes after Elis in that, too, I," Theli paused, "well, I think it best to be careful not to expose him to illness, if its avoidable." Theli almost never talked about his family, as they'd disowned for leaving the village, and then banished him forever for befriending Emlyn and his children.

Celeborn's eyes widened in grateful surprise at this bit of information, as Rumil, who had evidently heard this explanation several times this week, added as if repeating something by rote, "'Specially if Hal's still recovering from an injury, and his system is weakened from knitting tissue and healing muscles and such."

Theli smiled at Rumil, and squeezed his hand gently, "That's exactly right, Rumil. I'm very impressed by how well you remembered that. You'd make a good healer when you grow up." Theli tugged gently on Rumil's hand, and the two of them started their progress towards the door again.

"I'm going to be a soldier like Haldir and cousin the Aran Amroth and Ada!" Rumil disagreed happily, making a face as he added, "I don't like memorizing things, even though I do it sometimes for lessons."

Theli chuckled, and was about to reply, when Celeborn interjected, "Ecthelion."

Theli turned back, as Celeborn told himself sternly that this, reasons like this, were why he had agreed to keep his sons' relationship with their only blood kinsman (who would acknowledge them) a strong one, "Thank you." He said quietly to Theli.

Theli blinked in surprise, and replied, "Of course."

Celeborn asked, "Perhaps, before you leave, you could tell the healers what you remember, about your cousin Elissed. So that they know, for treating Haldir in the future."

Theli quirked his head in surprise, "Oh, I told the healers about that years ago, when you first adopted my cousins. Healers need to know these things."

Reminding himself that this young elf couldn't entirely help being an idiot, and had just done him a favor, Celeborn managed to mostly keep his voice amused instead of irritated as he informed Theli of something the youngster should already have realized, "Parents need to know these things, too, Ecthelion."

Theli shrugged, "If you say so, sir." Theli hadn't mentioned that years ago, in case Celeborn would not want to adopt his cousins, because of the family weaknesses, such as vulnerability to illness, and difficulty with learning new skills. Although Theli's cousins mostly showed less of those, then Theli did.

Taking another deep breath, and reminding himself that this was not necessarily disrespect coming from Theli, but only that the young elf had never been taught proper manners, Celeborn said stiffly, "In the future, if you are telling the healers anything about my sons, I would appreciate if you told me as well, or Galadriel or Celebrian, if I am not available."

"Yes, sir." Theli agreed, thinking that if Celeborn hadn't decided he'd taken on too much with Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil, by now, then any new information probably wouldn't matter, anyway. Besides, Theli couldn't think of any, now.

Celeborn remained in his seat, book in front of him and eyes unfocused, for several minutes after Theli and Rumil had left. Long enough that his wife, passing by, asked him with patient affection, "And what has our young guest done now, that has you so flabbergasted?"

Getting up and placing a marker in his book, Celeborn laughed lightly, "He was helpful, and I was grateful, and yet I still wanted to yell at him. It makes me wonder if I am turning into my father, short-tempered at having a house guest with such casual, Laiquendi manners."

"Nay, meleth." Galadriel denied lightly, giving her husband a reassuring embrace, "I think it more likely that Ecthelion reminds you of Beren."

"Beren?" Celeborn questioned his wife, startled, "Why would you say that? Beren was a human, not a wood-elf."

"Aye," Galadriel agreed, reaching out a hand to gently stroke her husband's face, "But Beren was also uncomfortable around you and your family, and his manners similarly left a great deal to be desired. Ecthelion, when he is uncertain...he somehow resembles Beren. Something about his facial expression, or...about his eyes perhaps. And when Beren came into our lives, he brought much joy to Luthien, but he brought sorrow, too. It was not Beren's fault, although it was perhaps because of him, but your family was never the same, again. You would have to be perfect not to resent that on some level, and no one is perfect."

"Hmm," Celeborn considered, lifting a hand to caress his wife's, "Aye, perhaps. Beren..." Celeborn paused, as a more recent memory came to him, and then told his wife, "Haldir, when first we met, when he had taken Amroth's place in that trap set by the Easterling mercenaries...he told me that his father's name was Beren." A quick-silver thought occurred to Celeborn, but could not be pinned down. He frowned.

"Coincidence, meleth." Galadriel told him quietly, "Beren was a great hero. It is a common name. Haldir and his brothers were in hiding because they believed they would be separated, otherwise. Our clever ion merely chose a name which could not be traced, a name of one of his heroes. I doubt it means anything more."

"Ada, Nana?" A young voice interrupted, before noticing that they were embracing, and offering, "Um, I'll come back later."

"Nay, 'Phin." Galadriel assured their middle adopted son with a smile, "'Tis well enough. Cousin Theli is merely driving your Adar crazy again."

"He's not that bad, really, Ada." Orophin assured Celeborn, "When we stay with him in Greenwood and you can't come with us, we eat all of our vegetables, and get plenty of rest, and,"

"Allright, allright," Celeborn interrupted with a slightly shame-faced laugh, "I will try to give your cousin the benefit of the doubt. Now, ion-nin, what is that piece of parchment you are clutching with such a fierce expression?"

Orophin made a disgusted face, "Math problems for Master Orlair." More hopefully, he inquired, "Do either of you have time to help?"

"Of course," Celeborn replied, as Galadriel made a gesture as if to say that math problems were her husband's purview. Chuckling at his wife, Celeborn offered, "Let's take them to my office, and if we don't make good progress, than we can ask Celebrian to join us. One of her apprenticeships was with an engineer, she's quite clever about math, your older sister."

Orophin smiled, relieved and amused, "One of Bri's twenty different apprenticeships?" He asked, loving the stories of Celebrian learning different trades just well enough to achieve journeyman status, and then becoming bored by them.

Celeborn smiled, "Yes, one of." He agreed, telling Orophin about Celebrian's days as an apprentice engineer in Eregion, as he led the elfling to his office, a gentle, fatherly arm around Orophin's slender shoulders.


	6. Something's Gotta Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil, in the earliest years of the Third Age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Dee for talking to me about initial ideas for this story, and many thanks to Kaylee for helping me figure out the characterizations for these three brothers. I very much appreciate how generously you both shared with me your time and creativity.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Written quickly when my Muse was in a mood to write about the Lothlorien brothers, as I think of them. Hopefully a good, quick introduction to Rumil, Orophin, and Haldir in the DH AU, and to their lost parents, Emlyn and Carys. Set in probably year 2 of the Third Age.

"And after that day, the fox and the young hunter were friends for all of their days. The end."

Haldir paused in the door way to the small house he and his brothers rented, and smiled wearily. "Mama never finished the story with the fox and the hunter, Orophin. You must have been writing again."

"Haldir!" Rumil exclaimed happily, throwing himself from the bed and running towards his eldest brother.

The forty-six year old elfling knelt with a sigh to give his youngest brother a hug, while twenty-nine year old Orophin winced.

"He was clean, Hal." Orophin pointed out, an ocean of exhaustion in his voice.

"So you were, little squirrel," Haldir murmured to Rumil, whose face was buried in his shoulder. Haldir himself was covered in dried, flaking mud, and now so was Rumil's woolen night-shirt. Haldir planted a kiss on Rumil's forehead, and hefted the elfling carefully in his arms. Haldir was a volunteer with their village's militia, as well as a hunter and an elf-of-odd-jobs. Whatever it took to make ends meet, or mostly meet. Haldir had spent the afternoon and evening helping one of the village farmers collect his goats from a creek bed which had over-flowed its banks during the recent rains. It seemed that in the year which had passed since the end of the War of the Last Alliance, Middle Earth either got no rain at all, or entirely too much.

"How about we go take a bath together, Rumil-nin?" Haldir asked his eleven year old baby brother, pointing out, "the creek is running slow enough for bathing, again, now."

"Yes, yes yes yes!" Rumil enthused. Haldir was his favorite brother, because Rumil saw Orophin all the time, but he hardly ever got to spend time with Haldir. And Haldir could be very strict about important things - like only ever pointing a bow at things you intended to shoot, and being careful with knives, and being careful while climbing and swimming- but Orophin fussed about EVERYTHING.

"Hal, its already a bit chill- Rumil may catch cold again, if you take him out swimming." Orophin pointed out, chewing on his lip. They didn't really have the money to see a healer again, and both of the older brothers knew it, though neither said so. They didn't want to worry Rumil.

"It's not too cold." Haldir disagreed quietly. He hadn't gotten to spend much time with Rumil, the last week or so, and the elfling was already terribly excited about the promised treat.

Orophin sighed and shrugged. A non-verbal, 'on-your-head-be-it-then.' Haldir devoutly hoped that Rumil would not catch a cold in the next few days, because Orophin was not good about refraining from saying 'I told you so.' More, some of Orophin's ideas for how to make extra money when they really needed it were...pretty awful.

Haldir groaned lightly as he used tired muscles to heft his giggling baby brother over his shoulder, while looking at his delicate, strawberry-blond middle brother, "You coming, pain?" He asked Orophin.

Orophin merely shook his head, his blue-grey eyes distant. "Nay, I have more writing to do. Take one of my clean shirts, for him. His are all dirty- long story- and you only have two, one for tonight and one for your shift with the militia tomorrow."

"Suit yourself, brother," Haldir said, grey eyes fixing Orophin with a stern look, "But I'll not have you going out to swim by yourself after I'm asleep." Orophin was normally the most fastidious of the three of them, and Haldir found his lack of interest in bathing, after a full day with Rumil, rather odd.

"Um-hmm." Orophin replied absently, already having moved toward their small table, where a pile of parchment and a quill was set up.

"Orophin." Haldir said more sternly, detouring to flick Orophin's ear, "Pay attention."

"Ow!" Orophin protested, tilting his head towards his shoulder to protect his ear, "Stop being a barbarian, Haldir! I heard you!" Orophin yelped, as Haldir's expression darkened.

Haldir gritted his teeth, but let his middle brother's insult go. He and Orophin could discuss it later, after Rumil was asleep. They were both tired. Orophin had worked at the inn today as a cook and waiter, while Rumil sang for the guests and accompanied the innkeeper's grown daughter about her work.

Then Orophin had probably taken Rumil out to play, and given him lessons, and also done laundry, since yesterday, they had only had today's clean clothes to wear. Haldir carried Rumil out and down the path to the creek, after first collecting warm cloaks and clean clothes for both of them.

Haldir went first into the water, to make sure that nothing lurked in the darker parts of the clear running creek. Then he nodded to Rumil, who leapt into the water with a war whoop, confident that Haldir would catch him. Which Haldir did. The creek was several feet deeper than Rumil, and his youngest brother was not really a confident swimmer yet.

The two played for awhile, both splashing, and Rumil practicing his swimming under his older brother's careful eye. Then Haldir pulled some soap-leaf from the bank, and set to washing his little brother.

"How did you go through all of your clean clothing even after Orophin did the laundry, baby brother?" Haldir asked Rumil bluntly.

Rumil made a face, and looked away. Haldir gently reached out and put a hand under Rumil's chin, bringing his little brother to look him in the eyes again. "Don't look away when someone is speaking to you, Ru. It's rude." Haldir lectured, "Now, answer my question."

Rumil sighed, "It was all Daeracharn's fault." He confessed, with a pout.

"I've no doubt." And Haldir didn't. Daeracharn was the baker's spoilt heir, an elfling about twelve years older than Rumil, who liked beating up on smaller elflings. Unfortunately, Haldir and Orophin had to keep on decent terms with the baker, since (1) he was the only baker in the village; and (2) his brother was the inn-keeper who had given Orophin and Rumil both jobs. "Tell me what happened, Rumil-mine." Haldir prompted.

"I don't want anyone to hear." Rumil objected.

Sighing, Haldir picked up his brother and dried him off. Probably, no one would hear them, or at least understand them, since they were speaking in the language of their parents, a dialect of Nandorin that was very rare. However, names stood out, even in their first tongue, so Haldir carried Rumil home, and set him back on the bed, now clean again.

"Talk." Haldir ordered his baby brother, as Orophin looked up from his writing with a hiss of anger.

"Daeracharn is a little snake, and his father is a horse's arse for letting him get away with it." Orophin supplied, and Rumil grinned at the rare support from his minder.

Haldir put his head in his hands, and counted to ten. "WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SETTING AN EXAMPLE, OROPHIN!" He said after he had finished counting, pausing to enunciate each word. He wasn't yelling, but it was very clear that he was disappointed with his middle brother. Haldir tried to be patient, but it really wasn't his cardinal characteristic.

Orophin made a face, and Rumil started to explain, "I'd finished all of my math problems, even though they were REALLY boring, so Orophin took me into the woods, to the clearing, to play. Daeracharn and some other, older elflings were there, and Daeracharn's sister, Dagniss, as well." Rumil paused to take a deep breath, obviously troubled.

Haldir nodded, and patted Rumil's knee, "Go on." Haldir was worried about where this story was going, from the carefully neutral expression on Orophin's face, and the terrible sadness in Rumil's eyes. Often, stories involving Daeracharn worked out poorly for his sister, Dagniss, who was just five years older than Rumil, but who always seemed fragile, even a bit young for her age.

"Daeracharn was showing off for his friends, and he took Dagniss' dolly, and said that it was an Enemy spy." Rumil said, his piping voice unusually halting.

Taken aback, Haldir murmured, "A doll, an Enemy spy? Daeracharn must have an even better imagination than 'Phin."

Orophin rolled his eyes, and Haldir smacked his middle brother's leg. He hated it when Orophin rolled his eyes, and their father Emlyn had hated it too.

"I think Daeracharn just wanted an excuse to hurt Dagniss." Orophin said, moving himself out of the way of further elder-brotherly retribution.

"Yeah," Rumil agreed, "Because he used his belt-knife to cut the dolly open, and then bashed her against a tree, which made her head fall off."

Haldir's grey eyes widened, "What a..." Snake was actually a good description, but having taken a stand against Orophin calling names, Haldir settled on, "poorly behaved older brother."

Orophin rolled his eyes again, and Haldir let it go.

"We kept quiet, because...well, the situation is what it is." Orophin then said quietly. Daeracharn thought his son was perfect. And Daeracharn's father was not only the village's only baker. He also funded the militia; and the militia stipend was a large part of Haldir's income. Without it, the brothers would not be able to afford to eat and clothe themselves. And they ate more than the average elflings. And no one even knew that Haldir was an elfling, anyway. In public, he pretended to be their uncle, and Orophin and Rumil pretended to be his orphaned nephews. The pretense allowed them to stay together; otherwise, they feared they would be separated.

"Orophin kept squeezing my shoulder every time I tried to tell Daeracharn to knock it off." Rumil's eyes were suspiciously bright, and he looked like he might start crying.

"He had to, baby brother." Haldir said, voice regretful but firm, "It's not fair, but if we want to stay together here, we can't stand up against Daeracharn, any more than absolutely necessary."

Rumil nodded, but it was obvious that he wasn't really happy.

"I still haven't heard how your clothing was dirtied." Haldir pointed out quietly, but in a tone that meant he expected to hear the rest of the story.

Rumil looked worried.

"Go ahead, baby brother." Orophin encouraged quietly, "It's all right."

Sighing, Rumil continued, "So I let Dagniss play with Stretch and Slim, even though they're some of my favorites."

"That was very good of you." Haldir said with an approving nod. Stretch was a toy otter that their father Emlyn had carved from willow-wood when Haldir had been a tiny elfling, and Slim was the smaller brother otter that Emlyn had made when Orophin was young, so that there could be two otters, a big brother and a little brother. Emlyn had gone off to fight in the War before he had had a chance to make a toy otter for Rumil, who had only been a tiny elfling of three years age the last time they had seen their father. Emlyn, like so many others, had not come home from the war.

"It was STUPID!" Rumil yelled, starting to cry. Orophin swept their smaller brother into his arms, whispering a soothing lullabye to him, while Haldir stared on in horror.

When Rumil had calmed a bit, Orophin explained, "Daeracharn was playing with a wooden sword. I think it must be lined with plugs of lead, because when he swung it down on Stretch, he...it cracked in two."

Haldir's grey eyes flew open again, this time in hurt and rage. Stretch was one of the very few things that they still owned that their father had made with his own hands. Human bandits had attacked their village, killing many and scattering the rest. The three brothers had buried their dead friends and neighbors, and then fled. Stretch, Slim, and four or five other toys that Emlyn and Haldir had carved had come with them, toys for Rumil to play with during the picnic the boys had been on the day that the bandits had come. Haldir would never stop being grateful that Orophin had insisted that they go on one last hike and picnic together, before one of the elves in charge of orphaned elflings came to their village, and split them up. At least, that's what the brothers had been warned that the authorities would do, although they had a cousin in Amon Lanc who'd offered to take them in, all three of them. But they'd only met their cousin Ecthelion the once, when he'd come to their village to bring them their father's sword and armor. And Ecthelion was late in answering Haldir's letter, so the three brothers had decided to take their chances, when they realized that Haldir looked old enough that other elves could mistake him for grown. So soon after the end of the war, with so much unrest in the allied Kingdoms, no one had looked too closely at a young elf taking in two orphaned nephews. At least not yet.

Rumil reached under his pillow, and offered Haldir the two broken halves of Stretch. "I saved the pieces, Hal. Do you think that you, or maybe Gorrovan, could heal him? Like the healers fix hurt elves?"

Haldir's broad, calloused hands carefully cupped Rumil's tiny, pale fingers, and the broken wooden body of Stretch. "I'm not sure, Ru." Haldir answered honestly, his voice husky with emotion, "I've never managed to fix a break quite like this, and I'm not sure Gorrovan has either." Gorrovan was the village carpenter, and also the leader of the village militia, and as such Haldir's commanding officer, when he worked as a volunteer soldier for the militia. Gorrovan had also been the one to help Orophin get his job working as a cook, when he learned that Haldir was going short on food last winter so that his "nephews" would have enough to eat. Rumil had gotten his own job, when the innkeeper's customers started offering to pay to hear the little elfling sing, in his pure, unexpectedly well-trained voice. Carys, the boys' mother, had been very well educated, and had tried hard to teach her sons. Haldir hadn't had much interest, beyond learning the of the creatures of the woods. But Orophin had soaked up knowledge like a sponge water, and he had taken up teaching Rumil where Carys had left off, including a number of different songs. Not just in their native Sindarin, but also in different dialects of Nandorin, and Quenya.

"Papa could fix Stretch," Rumil said, tearing up again, "If he had lived."

Orophin and Haldir exchanged glances, and Haldir nodded faintly. He was having trouble talking. That was almost never Orophin's problem.

"Ada was a decent whittler, as well as an excellent hunter," Orophin told Rumil gently, "But I'm not sure that even he could have fixed Stretch."

"I will ask Gorrovan, Ru." Haldir promised, "But first I would hear from you of exactly how it was that your clothing ended up dirty."

Rumil flushed, and then explained, very fast, "Daeracharn threw Slim into the river, so I went in after him."

Haldir's eyes widened, and he cursed. The river near the clearing where the elflings liked to play was fast, and quickly ran into treacherous rocks.

"Yeah." Orophin agreed, giving their baby brother a scolding look, "that's what I said. After I fished our squirrel out. And what did he have clutched tight in his little fist, but Slim."

Rumil didn't look terribly troubled by having scared Orophin and now Haldir, "I told Daeracharn that Slim drowned," Rumil explained in his piping voice, with a look on his face that reminded Haldir of their father Emlyn, when he had been playing chess against their old village head-woman Naithalas, and winning.

Rumil continued, "Then I pressed Slim into Dagniss' hand, and told her to keep him hidden, which she can do, 'cause he's little." Belatedly, Rumil realized that Haldir might be upset about Rumil having given Slim away, and he hastened to point out, "Slim would have been lonely, without Stretch. And besides, we still have Stalk, Pounce, Hop, and Glide."

"I'm not upset about your having given Slim away, Ru." Haldir pointed out, after counting to ten again. "On the contrary, I think that was a very kind and generous thing to do, to share a toy that can easily be hidden in a pocket with Dagniss. And a clever thing, too. I think that Father and Mother would have approved."

Rumil beamed, and Haldir let him have a moment before continuing more sternly, "However, both Papa and Mama would have been furious that you risked your life for a toy, however much beloved."

"See, Ru?" Orophin pointed out, "I told you that Haldir would agree. A rescue mission for a wooden toy just isn't a justifiable reason to risk your life."

Haldir took a moment to reflect that "I told you," were probably his least favorite words to hear from Orophin. And he was pretty sure that Rumil would agree with that.

"NOT risking my life." Rumil retorted, a stubborn expression on his face that Haldir could tell made Orophin want to say that Rumil now resembled Haldir. And it was true that stubborn was one of Haldir's cardinal characteristics. Stubborn, and stoic, and protective. And perhaps also brave.

Haldir gave Rumil a look, "Oh? And did I tell you that you could swim by yourself, even in the calm creek?"

That gave Rumil pause. After a moment, he answered, "Wellll, no....but I can ALMOST swim."

Haldir counted to ten again. Some days he thought that he had the easier task, working three different jobs to earn enough money to keep them clothed and fed, with a roof over their heads. At least as compared to Orophin, who cooked and cleaned and took care of Rumil, as well as cooking at the Inn three days a week. Finally feeling calm enough to continue this conversation, Haldir turned to Orophin, and asked, "And did you spank our Squirrel for risking his life for a toy?"

"Slim." Rumil corrected, lifting his chin stubbornly, as Orophin shook his head.

"I was worried that I couldn't be fair." Orophin explained quietly, with a challenging look, "When it first happened, I was really angry."

Haldir sighed, but couldn't blame his middle brother. Once, several months ago, Orophin had spanked Rumil too hard, for accidentally setting some of Orophin's parchments on fire, after generally being trying all day. When Haldir had gotten home, his two younger brothers hadn't been speaking to eachother, and Rumil's bottom had still been an angry red. Haldir had used some of the salve that he carried in his emergency supplies to soothe Rumil's pain, and then he'd used a wooden spoon to paddle Orophin's bottom until it was an even deeper red than Rumil's. That hadn't been the only time that Haldir had spanked his middle brother since they'd run away from their own village and come to this southernmost elven settlement in the neighboring realm of Lothlorien. But that had been the only time that he'd punished Orophin when Rumil was awake and aware of it. And the new rule had become that if Orophin was too angry to deal fairly with Rumil, then Orophin should leave it for Haldir. So Haldir really couldn't complain, now. Even if the last thing he wanted to do was punish his baby brother.

Still, he was responsible for both of his brothers, and especially Rumil, and Haldir was an elf who lived up to his responsibilities, rather than shirking them. Both of his parents had taught him that. So he rallied himself, and commanded gently but firmly, "Come here, Ru."

Rumil shook his head. "No. I don't want to." He said, sulking a bit.

Orophin stifled a giggle, and Haldir glared at both of them. Rumil shrank against Orophin, shaking his head, and Orophin gave Haldir a 'now-you-see-what-I-have-to-deal-with-all-the-time,' look.

"Rumil, Now." Haldir ordered.

Rumil shook his head again. "I don't want to. You spank harder than 'Phin. Well, except that one time when he made a mistake and punished me when he was still angry, and you spanked him for it." Rumil paused, and then suggested in a hopeful tone of voice, "Haldir? Maybe you're too angry?"

Orophin laughed aloud as Haldir growled.

"You're a clever little Squirrel, Ru, but that won't save you from big brother." Orophin said, once he had stopped laughing. Orophin gently pulled Rumil up out of his lap and to his feet, and then gave the younger elfling a firm but not cruel swat. "Now go to the corner and wait ten minutes while Haldir calms down from your sass."

Haldir growled again as Rumil pouted, but obeyed.

"You sound like Father in a mood when you do that. Growl, I mean." Orophin told Haldir in a quiet whisper, too low for Rumil to hear. "I wish that you wouldn't."

Haldir sighed, and nodded. But then he snorted, and said loudly enough for Rumil to hear, "If he'd prefer you to smack him, why didn't he remind you that he was due a punishment, once you'd calmed down?" Haldir figured that if Orophin had been telling Rumil stories when he got home, his middle brother must have been calm enough by then.

Orophin's green-gray eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and sadness, "Well, I think that baby brother thought that this might be one of those times where you took his side, and decided that no punishment was needful. He thinks that he is a fine enough swimmer."

Haldir glared at Rumil in the corner, "Baby brother must have had a daft moment, then."

Rumil slumped, as Orophin shrugged, "Baby brother is eleven. What do you expect?"

"Aye, true enough." Haldir agreed, "I'm happy with our baby brother, occasional idiotic impulses aside."

Rumil straightened a bit, and Haldir called him out of the corner. Orophin tactfully went off to the far side of their small abode, as Haldir proceeded to lecture Rumil, and then redden his little bottom quite thoroughly. Haldir might spank harder than Orophin, as a rule, but Haldir knew that he couldn't let this go with just a token spanking, even if he wanted to. As he told Rumil, repeatedly, he didn't know how they'd live without their baby brother, so Rumil would just have to be more careful. And giving his baby brother a memorable spanking was one way that Haldir knew to impart that lesson.

When it was over, Haldir cuddled Rumil carefully in his arms. As a normal rule, he was more likely to wrestle, or give bear hugs, then gentle cuddles. But holding Rumil like their mother or father would have was one way that he could let his baby brother know that he was still loved, even though Haldir had felt it needful to punish him.

Haldir let Rumil dry his last tears on Haldir's clean shoulder, while Orophin came back, and handed Rumil a chipped mug of frothy, warm milk, topped with cinnamon.

"Th...thanks, Phin." Rumil hiccuped, "I thought... I thought that I'd...sp...spilled all the milk, though."

"Most," Orophin agreed with a wink, "Not all. And it was an accident," He clarified for Haldir's benefit, "so no punishment."

"No punishment for accidents like that." Haldir immediately agreed, squeezing Rumil's shoulders reassuringly, before grinning gently, and tapping Rumil on the nose, "Although it does explain what happened to your second outfit of the day."

Rumil smiled sadly, "I was just trying to help."

"I know, Ru, but leave the heavy pitcher to me, ok?" Orophin asked, poking his younger brother gently on the shoulder.

Rumil nodded, before giving Haldir a very sad but hopeful look, "Will you tell me the story of Beren and Luthien, Hal? Please, even though...even though I scared you, today?"

Haldir caved, and told the family's favorite story for his youngest brother, at least until Rumil fell asleep.

Then Haldir retired to the small table in their tiny kitchen, and took a long drink from his flask of ale.

Orophin looked up from his writing, and just nodded.

Haldir snorted, and handed his middle brother the flask.

Orophin took a careful sip. Haldir always let him have at least one swallow of ale, like their Mother had, before her death just over three years ago.

"Hell of a day." Haldir commented quietly.

"I was pissed at you, for being late and missing dinner." Orophin commented equally softly, "Until I saw you covered in dried muck, and figured that you were probably late for good reason."

"I don't leave you alone with the Squirrel longer than needful, 'Phin." Haldir reproached, "Not unless I feel like if I don't go out for a drink with the other ellyn, I won't get more jobs or assignments."

Sighing, Orophin nodded. "I know. I do. I just feel like I never have any time for me, or for my writing."

Haldir nodded, and offered, "Have another sip. I can't give you an afternoon off, or even a morning, this week. But maybe next."

Orophin smiled faintly, and swallowed again from his brother's flask of ale. "I know. It's ok. You've got to work while the weather is fair. I understand." Orophin paused, and looked troubled.

"Spill." Haldir commanded.

"That elfling....Daeracharn," Orophin said hesitantly, "He's going to be trouble, Haldir. Not now, while he still fears his father's hand. But..." Orophin's eyes went distant, and it was Haldir's turn to sign.

"He's not our problem, Phin." Haldir pointed out, after a few moments. There wasn't anything else to say. This village had taken them in, when many would have refused three young elves, when only one of them could make a real contribution towards the well-being of the community during a difficult time. Daeracharn was the treasured son of a pillar of the community, who refused to see that his heir had any flaws. It would be folly, for Haldir to protest how Daeracharn was permitted to bully the other elflings, particularly his own sister. It would be worse than folly, for Haldir to do so with winter coming on.

Yet, Haldir had to admit that many of Orophin's vague feelings had turned out to be true. Orophin had pitched a fit, the day when it had rained so hard. Haldir and two other ellyn had been supposed to go out hunting deer on the flood plain, but Orophin had pretended to be sick so that Haldir couldn't leave, and the other two weren't good enough trackers to go on their own, without Haldir. If they had gone, they would have almost certainly been in real jeopardy when the river rose beyond it's old flood high, even if they hadn't drowned. Then there had also been Orophin's insistence that Haldir take he and Rumil hiking and picnicking, the day when the human bandits had attacked their old home village in the south of the Greenwood. And even earlier, there had been the day that a very young Orophin had let Head-woman Naithalas' parrots go free from their cage. Head-Woman Naithalas had been furious, and their own parents had been upset at the time, too, since they'd had to find a way to pay for the exotic birds. But that night, a fierce thunderstorm had raged, and lightning had felled a tree. It had fallen on top of the cage, and would have killed the parrots if they had been there.

Haldir looked at his delicate middle-brother, and sighed again. "If you think of something...concrete," He said at last, "That I can take to Garrovan, regarding Daeracharn....tell me. Something more than elfling stuff."

Orophin sighed in frustration. "By that time, it may be too late." He pointed out.

"It's the best I can do, Phin." Haldir replied, frustration showing in his own voice.

"I know." Orophin's voice broke, and he laid his head down on the table for a moment.

Haldir reached out tentatively, and gently stroked his brother's strawberry blond hair. Rumil loved hugs and cuddles and tickles, but Orophin was often prickly about being touched, by anyone. Though he cuddled Rumil willingly enough.

"Some days, its just too much." Orophin said, the words muffled by his arm and hair.

"Speak to me, not to the table." Haldir ordered gently.

Orophin sighed, and looked up. "I'm sorry to complain, Hal. I know that you're working yourself to the bone for us. I just wish...that Mama hadn't died. Or that Father had come home."

Haldir gave his brother a rare sympathetic look. "I know, Phin. I don't blame you. And I couldn't do this- take care of Rumil, and keep us afloat- without you. So I need to know- if you get to the point where you really can't take it. Because we could always go home. Head-woman Naithalas could find foster-families to take in you and Rumil, and I could do odd jobs for her and see you in the off-season."

Orophin snarled, and said something very impolite about Head-woman Naithalas.

Haldir raised an eyebrow at his normally chivalrous middle brother's imprecations of Naithalas, though he supposed, if he were Orophin, he might feel much the same. There had been the parrot incident, which even their parents thought that Naithalas had overreacted to. And then Orophin had been put in charge of watching the village's sheep, which happened to be mostly Naithalas' sheep. Now, Haldir would not have put an elfling as prone to day-dreaming as a younger Orophin in charge of...well, anything that might wander off. But their father Emlyn had thought that it would teach Orophin responsibility. The predictable had occurred, and the sheep had wandered off while Orophin was reconciling some differentiation in the Sindarin vs. Quenya versions of the Awakening story. Even though all the sheep had been found, Naithalas had been furious, and had rather thoroughly birched Orophin. Their father Emlyn had been too upset with his son to protest overly, though he had never put Naithalas in charge of any of his children again. Their mother Carys had been rather impressed by the academic nature of Orophin's distraction, and from that point on, he had become Carys' apprentice, like Haldir had been their father's assistant hunter and tracker.

Calming, Orophin more coherently summarized, "No. I don't want us to be separated, and I think that Rumil is better of with you and I than he would be with...with someone like Naithalas, or for that matter, a foster-brother anything like Daeracharn. And I'm ok most of the time, really I am. Its just..." He sighed, and Haldir nodded.

"It's been a long day, and more, a long month." The eldest brother agreed. Then the two sat in a comfortable silence for some time, Haldir relaxing and silently planning his activities for the next day, and Orophin scratching away at his parchment. After an hour or so, Haldir got up, slugging Orophin gently on the shoulder, "I'm going to bed. Don't stay up all night, Pain, and don't set your hair on fire again."

Orophin rolled his eyes. "Something happens twice..."

"Three times." Haldir corrected, with a teasing glint in his gray eyes.

"A few times, and all of a sudden, you warn me about it every night, like a nagging Mama." Orophin teased back.

Haldir flicked his brother's ear, and tugged on a lock of Orophin's red-kissed golden hair. "No more fires."

Orophin half-smiled, and agreed, "No more fires."

The next few days passed quickly for the three brothers. Rumil developed the sniffles, and then a cough.

"We've got to take him to the healer." Orophin pointed out, the second morning that Rumil awoke listless and symptomatic.

Haldir nodded, grateful that Orophin was worried enough to forego saying, "I told you so," at least for the time being. "We do. We have no choice, even though it will exhaust our savings..." Haldir murmured, worried over that, especially with winter coming on.

"Ah," Orophin interjected, "Not exactly." With a look of mingled pride, defiance, and concern, he looked inside his pack, and produced a pouch with a dozen silver coins, and twice as many less valuable coins."

Haldir stared. It was more money than he made in a good month. "Orophin...." He said warningly, "If you've been letting that human man draw pictures of you in the nude again, I am going to see to it that you do not sit for a week."

Orophin crossed his arms and huffed, giving Haldir a hurt look.

Haldir just regarded him steadily. He was more than willing to wait Orophin out.

Finally, Orophin rolled his eyes, and drawled, "No, thank you, brother, your last lesson on that subject was more than clear enough. Now, leaving aside that Tolomael is an ARTIST and a TRAINED HEALER, and only needed a picture of a naked elf to help him learn how to help OTHER HEALERS, I have not been letting anyone draw pictures of me again. Instead, I...I finished Mother's last book. This is the advance, from her publisher. He'll send us more if it sells well, and he'll pay the same again, for the sequel. That's what I'm working on now."

Haldir was not easily surprised, but at this news, his jaw dropped open in astonishment, and he was momentarily speechless.

Orophin filled the silence, as he often did, "I...I used to help Mother with her correspondence. So I knew how to get in touch with her publisher. I wrote him, last winter when we didn't have enough food. I said that I was Mother, and that I'd been injured, so I'd had to hire a scribe to write for me. And I'd already been working on her book, just...just, as a way...to honor her."

Haldir nodded, and pulled his brother into a tight hug. For once, Orophin didn't squirm away, and for the second time in several days, Haldir didn't even wince as one of his brothers cried all over his shirt.

Haldir took Rumil to the healer, and Orophin was able to go to the market and buy all of the foods that the healer had suggested would help Rumil to get better quickly. The elflings were able to afford some warmer clothing, and even a few sweets for Rumil, and enough time off for Haldir to carve a new toy otter for Rumil, although Haldir insisted that they save most of the money.

And the three elflings did not know it, even Orophin, but they weren't going to spend another winter in that village. Soon, young Aran Amroth of Lothlorien would come to their village, and borrow several militia elves, including Haldir, to supplement his guard for a clandestine visit to his love, Nimrodel. And Haldir would save the Aran's life when human bandits attacked, resulting in the Aran's making Haldir one of his guards. Haldir and his brothers would spend that winter, and thousands more, in Caras Galadhon. But that winter would be their last winter, just the three of them. For in the following year, it would be discovered that Haldir was not, in fact, of age, or anyone's uncle. But that is another story.


	7. Winter Mornings, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some forms of love are harder to understand than others, and it doesn't help that Haldir's father Emlyn is an elf of few words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to all who looked over this and helped me with this! I can't decide whether to include an additional snippet into my Galadriel and Celeborn series, so I thought I'd go ahead and start posting this little series instead. 
> 
> "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden
> 
> "Sundays too my father got up early   
> and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,  
> then with cracked hands that ached  
> from labor in the weekday weather made  
> banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
> 
> I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.  
> When the rooms were warm, he'd call,  
> and slowly I would rise and dress,  
> fearing the chronic angers of that house,
> 
> Speaking indifferently to him,  
> who had driven out the cold  
> and polished my good shoes as well.  
> What did I know, what did I know  
> of love's austere and lonely offices?"

When he was very small, Haldir always awoke in the palest early hours of the morning. The first sounds he heard on those cold winter mornings were his father's footsteps, and then the sounds of his father stoking the kindling to build up a new fire. Haldir would spring from his bed, stifling a yelp as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He wanted to help; he could never spend enough time with his father Emlyn. If Emlyn was up and starting a fire, then Haldir wanted to be awake and handing him wood. 

Emlyn usually let Haldir help him. He was usually proud of his son for Haldir's dutifulness and patient attention to detail. But not in the cold mornings. Trying to help on cold mornings got Haldir a smack on his bottom, and a harsh command to stay in bed with his mother until the house warmed. 

"Do you want to get sick?" Emlyn would ask, carrying Haldir back to his mother, as Haldir's backside and eyes both stung. 

"No one wants to get sick." Carys, Haldir's mother, would scold her husband sleepily, "But do come back to bed, Haldir. I am cold without you, and your father and I are always so worried and sad when you come down with a cold or a fever." Then Carys would cuddle Haldir, and he would usually fall back asleep in her warm arms. Later in the day, Emlyn would wake Haldir again, and Carys would make him breakfast. Emlyn would apologize for yelling at his son by teaching Haldir to whittle, or to play chess. Or perhaps by telling him a story. Sometimes the story of Luthien and Beren, as Emlyn had first learned it from his own father, who had learned it from his father. Haldir liked that story, even though it was partly a love story, because of the rich details and descriptions of the historical figures involved. He felt like he knew them, from his father's stories. Just as much Haldir liked the stories of the War of Wrath. To his father's amusement, Haldir played at being a soldier in their small cottage, careful not to knock things over. When the weather warmed, his father taught him to fight, first with a wooden sword, then a wooden sword plugged with lead, then a blunt practice sword. They had just moved onto sparring with real blades, when Emlyn had to leave to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. That still made Haldir one of the better fighters, of the ellyn who stayed behind in the village. Even before his mother started training him, but that was a whole different story. 

Orophin was born many years after Haldir, but many years before Rumil. (Well, the years seemed many to Haldir; to his parents, the gap between each of their children's ages was very small, indeed). Orophin never tried to get up early in the cold mornings. In fact, he hated getting up at all in the winter. Emlyn called him a slug-a-bed, and sometimes lazy. But Emlyn would put an extra quilt on Orophin on winter mornings. Emlyn would also work late into the nights, making extra wooden figures and joints for furniture. When he had enough, he sold them to buy warmer stockings and winter clothes for Orophin. Carys would bring Orophin a hot cup of tea in the mornings, and that helped. But Haldir's younger brother still stumbled, bleary-eyed, through the cold winter mornings. 

"You're like a lizard." Haldir had told his brother in disgust, after Orophin had failed to get up to collect wood one morning. At least until Emlyn had smacked Orophin sharply on the bottom, to get him going. 

"I am like a lizard." Orophin had agreed, angrily brushing away tears. "And do you see lizards in the winter? No, you don't, because they're hibernating, like any sensible creature. I'm really cold, Hal, and I hate it." 

And Haldir sighed and rolled his eyes, but when their mother found excuses for Orophin to do the indoor chores in the winter, Haldir didn't protest that it was unfair. Besides, he liked going hunting and wood-cutting with his father, anyway. It did make Haldir get sick more often, which meant that his parents would insist that he work indoors while he was recovering, and Orophin would work outside. Which made Orophin keep a good look-out for Haldir's health. He would often volunteer to cut the wood and hunt, if Haldir seemed like he was coming down with a cold. 

"The less time you're sick, the less time before I can be back inside, and warmer. At that, I'm never truly warm until spring takes hold." Orophin had told Haldir. 

"You're as much of a whiner as Headwoman Naithalas' exotic birds, huddling in their cages and complaining all winter." Haldir had teased Orophin, but secretly he was touched. Orophin was a pain of a brother in lots of ways, but he did care for Haldir. Even if he was too busy whining about the cold to appreciate everything that their father did for them. 

Then Rumil was born, and he was too young to have an opinion one way or the other about mornings when Emlyn left. In those days, Carys or Haldir started the fire. Orophin stayed abed, cuddling Rumil, extra blankets on both of them. He would fix breakfast while Carys helped Haldir to cut wood, fetch water, and do the other outside chores. 

"Orophin should be helping," Haldir told his mother with some heat, "You're an elleth, you shouldn't have to be out here." 

But Carys had just laughed, and told him that her grandfather would be shocked and disappointed at a granddaughter who couldn't hold her own with any ellon. 

"And besides," She said with a mischievous grin and a sparkle in her eyes, "Orophin is less likely to burn the eggs." 

And Haldir had to agree. His brother was a good cook. In truth, Orophin was a better cook than their mother. Haldir teased Orophin that it was just another way in which his middle brother was like an elleth, but Orophin mostly ignored him. Orophin liked to be warm that much.


	8. Winter Mornings, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some forms of love are harder to understand than others. Haldir hopes that Rumil will understand someday.

It was Haldir, who, years later when both of their parents were dead, found Rumil yelping and dancing across the cold wooden floor. "I want to help you make the fire, Hal." His littlest brother told him, with a sincere look in his blue eyes and a stubborn cast to his fair, babyish features. 

"No," Haldir told him firmly, picking up his elfling brother (who hadn't even had the sense to put on his stockings and cloak), and walking swiftly back to the bed still occupied by a sleeping Orophin. 

"But Haldir," Rumil whined, "I WANT to help. Everyone says that helping is good." 

Haldir couldn't stand whining, and they didn't have the money to pay a healer if Rumil got sick, so he smacked his youngest brother and said sternly, "Do as you are told." 

Blinking and stirring slowly, much like a lizard on a sun-warmed rock, Orophin bade, "Come back to bed, Ru. Haldir is just crotchety because he doesn't want you to get sick. Instead of building up the fire with grumpy, you can help by keeping me warm." 

Rumil accepted that reasoning and cuddled up against Orophin, although his blue eyes stayed fixed on Haldir, giving his oldest brother an injured look. 

Haldir was momentarily stung by the parallel to his own elflinghood, which neither Orophin nor Rumil remembered. They hadn't been there, after all. No one was left alive who remembered that ongoing argument between little elfling Haldir and his father. It would have made Haldir cry, if he had been an elfling who cried easily. But he wasn't, and he had to be strong for his brothers, besides. So later that day, Haldir apologized to Rumil by showing him how to whittle the ears of a rabbit, and telling him the story of Luthien and Beren. Orophin waited until Rumil was asleep, then accused Haldir of being as emotionally stunted as their father. The two of them had an invigorating if mostly silent argument about that, which would have been cause for not speaking to one another for a week if their parents had still been alive. But the situation being what it was, Haldir had conceded before going to sleep that Emlyn would have been proud of how much Orophin was helping him now, and Orophin had conceded that if Rumil had taken the snotty attitude towards Orophin that Orophin had so often given to Emlyn, Orophin would have been really annoyed with Rumil, too. 

For the next week, Haldir was afraid that he'd have to smack Rumil for getting up to help him in the mornings. Elfling Haldir, after all, had tried to help his father on an average of about twice a week, just to see if Emlyn would change his mind if Haldir persisted. But fortunately for the peace of their small household, Rumil was much less stubborn than Haldir, and he didn't test his brother again. Rumil would always wake when Haldir got out of bed in the mornings, but from then on he would just bid Haldir a sleepy hello and murmur his thanks. 

It was Haldir who was shocked, later that winter, by Orophin. It was a particularly hard winter, a wolf winter, when the snows fell hard and late into the spring. To earn the money for them to live, Haldir had to get up early in the mornings and work hard all day, bringing food and water to the homes of those who had the luxury of paying for someone else to provide those services. Haldir would shovel snow for the merchants, and join the patrols of elves who went out into the forest. He would hunt the wolves and the wargs and the winter-starved bears who had been from their lairs by hunger. In the morning, Haldir's abused muscles resented the thought of getting up to fix the fire. And Haldir had endured so much cold that even he had lost his taste for it. But still, the memory of his father's daily acts of love made him get up, intending to stoke the fire. But as Haldir pushed himself out of the covers and sat up, prepared for the chill, he found the air warm, and their home redolent with the smell of fresh-baked bread and last night's venison stew reheated. 

"Go back to bed, Hal." Orophin told him firmly, "I have everything under control; breakfast will be ready in half an hour." 

Haldir stared at Orophin, as if his middle brother were a lizard that had sprouted an extra head. "You hate the cold. You hate mornings. You particularly hate cold mornings." Haldir observed, surprise and sleep bringing him to state the obvious, something he generally tried to avoid with Orophin, as it made him an easy target for his brother's sharp tongue. 

"Being an adult means doing things that you hate sometimes, when they are the right things to do." Orophin told him, shoving Haldir back under the covers.

"Now go back to sleep before I have to smack you." Orophin commanded, his grey-green eyes glinting mischievously, much like their mother's often had. 

"I'd like to see you try," Haldir muttered, but he was obeying nonetheless, curling his aching limbs around the welcome warmth of Rumil.


	9. Winter Mornings, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some forms of love are harder to understand than others, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel are very different from Emlyn and Carys. But in time, Haldir comes to understand that the Lord and Lady of the Wood also love him like a son, and his brothers too.

Later still, the brothers lived in the talan of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn, King Amroth's aunt and uncle. First as their fosterlings, and then as their adopted sons. At the start of their time with the King's family, all of Haldir's time and energy was wrapped up in healing from having had a blade driven through his leg just under his knee. During that time, Lord Celeborn had been gentle and kind when Haldir woke in pain. He had been a source of calm and stone-certain reassurance, when Haldir doubted that he would even live, let alone walk again. So Haldir did not realize, at first, that Celeborn was also stern. At least not until Orophin pointed it out. 

"I like it here now," Haldir recalled hearing Rumil chatter happily to a noncommittal Orophin, "Ada picked me up so that I could see the redbirds in the high tree. And he played soldiers in the forest with me, which you and Haldir NEVER had time for. He's nice and fun, not at all 'mean and queer,' like you said he was, 'Phin." 

For a breath and a half Haldir had to fight tears at Rumil referring to anyone other than Emlyn as 'father.' Then, because old habits die hard, Haldir began bracing himself against the pain of lifting himself up onto his elbows to yell at his smart-mouthed middle brother. Fortunately, Orophin chuckled before Haldir even started moving, and the sound was gentle and amused. 

"I said 'keen and austere,' Ru," Orophin explained using his patient-but-teasing teacher voice, "Not 'mean and queer.'" 

"He is keen," Haldir said very, very softly, but even his whisper was enough to gain his brothers' attention, and their smiles. Haldir did his best to smile back, as he continued, "but austere? Mother said that meant ascetic...and no one here," Haldir gestured to their rooms in the Lord and Lady's spacious and comfortable talan, "could be called ascetic." 

Orophin reached out ever-so-gently, resting his palm against Haldir's, while Haldir lay on the bed, trying to avoid any movement that would jar his leg. "Austere means not only spare, as in having few luxuries or comforts," Orophin told Haldir, swallowing back tears of relief, "but also strict, in manner or attitude. And trust me, he was very strict about not letting me sneak out at night in order to visit you here at the healers." Orophin wrinkled his delicate nose, "Oppressively so, in fact. Although I must confess that his editorial comments, while unnecessary, showed both wit and humor." 

Haldir fought a laugh, because it would have hurt. With tears of relief in his own eyes, Haldir told Orophin, "Be respectful. Or else." He tried to be stern as he reprimanded his brother, but in truth Haldir was just so glad to hear Orophin's smart-aleck comments again. Believing that he might well die had made Haldir appreciate his brothers more, as well as feel a great deal of gratitude towards Lord Celeborn for taking care of them. Although he hadn't yet realized, at that point, the extent to which Celeborn, and his family, would come to care for all three of them. And by then, Haldir knew full well that Celeborn could be austere. But only in the best interest of those he cared for dearly. 

It was never truly cold in the mornings, in the talan at Caras Galadhon. Often, the Lady Galadriel or one of her attendants would stoke the fires in the middle of the night, when they were done with their scrying. The rare nights when the Lady was not wakeful, someone would attend to the fires before the earliest dawn had even painted the windows, when even Haldir still slept. He still rose early, joining his adoptive father, Celeborn's armed retainers, and the earliest of the morning staff in the kitchens. Haldir was a morning elf, and besides, he liked having time with Celeborn, and the other great warriors. He also liked seeing the pretty junior cook Silwen, who worked in the mornings, and who would often give Haldir an extra biscuit and a lovely smile. Sometimes Celebrian would join them, the bright sword of the Princess Idril strapped to her back. With Celebrian there, Haldir even had the courage to talk to Silwen, because she and Celebrian were friends, and Celebrian was good at starting conversations. 

"You chatter like a cheerful bird in the mornings, iel-nin." Celeborn would observe fondly of his daughter. 

"Well, if one is to be up, one might as well be cheerful about it." Celebrian would say with a smile, the retiring moon and then the rising sun in turn making her braided silver hair shine nearly as bright as her blade. 

Sometimes Haldir would practice with them, gentle stretches at first, as he brought the healing muscles in his leg back up to fighting strength. Even years after the accident that had derailed his military career and indirectly resulted in their adoption by the Lord and Lady of the Wood, Haldir's leg would sometimes ache fiercely in the morning. The damp cold of rainy or snowy mornings especially would bring the pain, which Haldir would grit his teeth and hide. A warrior couldn't let pain distract him from training, after all. But Celeborn could tell, every time Haldir's leg ached. He would give Haldir a measuring, patient look, and then nod towards the talan. In later years, Haldir would usually just sigh and make his excuses, obeying the silent command without demur. But in the early days, he'd protest, causing Celeborn to walk over to address him. 

"I will not have you in pain, Haldir, not unless there is dire need." Celeborn would tell him softly. Even though Celeborn's voice was quiet, Haldir knew it for an order. 

Celeborn permitted polite questioning of his orders when only his own household was present, so Haldir would protest, "But Sir, I mean, Adar, the pain is not so much, I can hardly notice it. And besides, a warrior must..." 

"A warrior must listen to his superiors." Celeborn interrupted, affectionate but firm. "Do you go back to the talan, ion-nin. Have something hot to drink, and let Silwen put a warm compress on your leg." 

That was very tempting, but Haldir was an elf who liked his morning work outs, and who did not like to be coddled. He was generally obedient, but he really wanted to stay. So he would often consider another protest. A polite one. 

But before he could offer it, Celeborn would step closer to him, cupping a gentle hand around the back of Haldir's head, and pulling the adolescent elfling's forehead to rest against his shoulder. 

"If you do not obey me now," Celeborn would whisper softly into Haldir's ear, "The next thing that will happen is that I or one of our ellyn will carry you back to the talan, just as we would a recalcitrant elfling. I know that you do not wish that." 

And since Haldir really did not want that, he would have to nod in agreement, promising, "I will do as you say, Adar." 

Celeborn would squeeze his shoulder, praising, "I know that it is not easy to have patience with an injury, Haldir, or the aftereffects of one. It pains me that you have had to learn such patience so very young, but I cannot go back in time and stop the accident from happening. All I can do is help you to heal well and thoroughly, now." Celeborn's fair features turned from loving to stern, as he quietly added, "And I will have your cooperation with that, Haldir-nin. I would prefer to have it willingly, but I will command it, if I must. And you will not like the results of pushing me on this." 

Haldir nodded, wide-eyed, for he knew that to be true. For all Celeborn was kind, gentle, and understanding as a father, he did not brook disobedience from his children in regards to their health or safety. Haldir's bottom had paid a stinging price for testing that, on several memorable occasions. So Haldir would go back to the talan, which had its compensations. It was always wonderful to have Silwen fuss over him, even if Haldir would much prefer for her to admire his prowess as a warrior, rather than coddle him for having gotten injured in an accident. Lady Galadriel would often wake early if Haldir's leg was paining him. She was the best at brewing hot possets with healing herbs, even better than Lord Elrond in Haldir's opinion (which was not unbiased; Haldir loathed Elrond for centuries, despite Elrond's having saved his leg and his life). 

Sometimes, if he felt better after the hot compress, Haldir would consider going to join Aran Amroth at his morning practice, which was later in the morning than Lord Celeborn's. Amroth did not speak to Haldir's healers as often, so he would usually welcome his former guard with a grin, and an offer to spar once Haldir had warmed up. Of course, if Celeborn found out about Haldir doing that, Haldir always ended up grounded for a week, at the least. 

"And if you do this again, or in any other manner put back the progress you have made in healing that leg, I swear to you, ion-nin, I will ground you for a month, and spank you soundly every other day for a week." Celeborn promised sternly, though his hands gentle as he massaged the tender muscles in Haldir's leg. 

"Yes, Adar." Haldir would murmur. Or sometimes he would just nod, tears in his eyes, because his leg hurt so much, and he was so very frustrated with not being able to exercise as he longed to do, and because the fear that he would never be able to run and climb and fight again nagged at his spirit like a wasting disease. 

When the tears of pain and fear came, Celeborn would gently pull Haldir into his arms, just holding him. He would not tell Haldir to shush, or judge him for the tears. He would just hold Haldir, offering his support without judging or belittling Haldir's pain. When the tears were gone, Celeborn would gently stroke Haldir's hair, rearranging his braids and pale blond locks into some semblance of order. 

"Elrond believes that you will recover, Haldir," Celeborn would then remind him, "That you will bear a sword once more. Well enough to once again impress much older soldiers with your incredible prowess and technique for one so young. But you must be patient, and take it slowly. Though I do I know that doing so is nearly unbearable, for you. And you must accept that you may never achieve what would have been your full potential, before the accident. We do the best we can; we cannot do more. You can still be a great warrior, and if that fails you, there are other things." 

There weren't, really, for Haldir, but he was sure that Celeborn and Galadriel and his family would not give up on helping him find another path, if this one failed him. 

After settling him comfortably, Celeborn would lift Haldir's chin, gently wiping away his son's tears with a soft cloth. Once, on such a day, Celeborn told Haldir, "I am sorry that I did not question you more closely, the first day I met you," with self-recrimination and apology mingled in his tone. 

"You couldn't have known." Haldir replied, honestly meaning it as he told Celeborn, "We were nothing to you, not your kin or people. You had no responsibilities, to us. You have nothing to apologize for." 

"I owed you something," Celeborn disagreed, cupping Haldir's cheek gently in his strong hand, "You probably saved Amroth's life that day, by pretending to be him so that the bandits took you and did not search further for him." 

Haldir shrugged, and countered, "That debt was amply repaid by your and Aran Amroth's kindness to all of the elves of the village in which we lived, without even counting Amroth's having appointed me to his guard. A position well above my station and skills." 

"It was beyond your skills," Celeborn conceded, "Though only due to youth and inexperience, the latter of which you worked very hard to rectify. But still...I noticed that you looked young, that day. And lost, overwhelmed. To my shame, I let Armoth do what he did for you without becoming involved myself. I did so because you reminded me too much of other young elves I have loved and lost. Ellyn who were also brave beyond their years, despite being in over their heads. I forgot that grief and loss are poor reasons indeed to cease caring, and it cost you dearly." 

"It still wasn't your fault." Haldir stubbornly insisted. 

"Thank you, Haldir, but we will just have to agree to disagree on that." Celeborn countered, patting Haldir's good leg affectionately as he got up to deal with whatever important task he had been attending before Orophin snitched about Haldir's mid-morning plans. 

"Adar?" Haldir questioned, unable to help himself now that this question had occurred to him, even though he did not wish to further interrupt Lord Celeborn's day. 

"Yes, ion-nin?" Celeborn replied, patient and encouraging. 

"I understand, I do, why the healers," Haldir couldn't help making a face. The healers annoyed him more than fire ants. "Insist that I do not try to exercise my leg ahead of their schedule. I really want to recover as much mobility as I can, and I understand that not pushing my recovery is related to that." 

Celeborn nodded understandingly, and his tone was sympathetic as he told Haldir, "I know that you do, ion-nin. It is just that your frustration and your desire to be active overwhelm you from time to time, and you cannot help yourself." 

Sighing gratefully at his father understanding how he felt without Haldir having to find the words to explain it himself, Haldir still had to ask, "So why did you not make me swear to abide by the healer's instructions, on my honor?" Celeborn had asked Haldir for other such promises. Haldir had sworn that he would never again run away without word, or permit Orophin or Rumil to do so if he knew of their plans. And that he would always in the future tell Celeborn or Galadriel, or an adult whom they trusted, if he or his brothers were being threatened. Haldir had also promised to tell Celeborn if he became aware of Orophin's slipping away on night errands again (unless Galadriel knew of them), although Celeborn had not asked Haldir to swear to that, on his honor. Haldir wasn't exactly sure why. Haldir had never violated an oath that he made, on his honor. 

Celeborn sighed, and sat down at a chair by Haldir's bed before answering, "Haldir, when you are an ellon grown and an officer, or have other authority to command the actions of others, there are many things you will need to learn. One of them is that you should never ask anyone to swear to something when you know, knowing them and knowing the circumstances of their life, that they will not be able to keep their word. Similarly, a commander or a lord should never give one of his elves an order that he knows will not be obeyed; for in doing so, he is forcing that elf to violate not only rules, but also their honor. Asking someone to swear an oath without a set time limit means taking into account not only current circumstances, but the future as well. And particularly with the young, that is often unfair. An oath like that can have awful, unanticipated consequences, which must be borne. Unless, of course, the oathmaker chooses to forswear himself, which can have dire consequences of its own. So, you have to be careful when you ask for such an oath." 

Haldir considered that solemnly for a moments, thinking of the sons of Feanor. Then he nodded, and asked his father, "Is that why you did not ask Orophin or Rumil to swear to you on their honor that they would not run away again?" 

"In Orophin's case, yes." Celeborn answered, shaking his head with fond exasperation as he complained, "I never know what is running through Orophin's head, and what it might lead him to do if he feels that it is needful, without consulting anyone. I can only try to teach him to TALK to someone first, and hope that Galadriel and I, with your aid and Celebrian's and even Rumil's, can keep track of what Orophin is thinking well enough to prevent him from doing anything too foolishly dangerous." 

"And Rumil?" Haldir asked, stifling a yawn as the sedative mixed in with the pain-killing drink Galadriel had made him began to tug him towards dreams. 

"Why do you think that I did not ask such a thing, of your baby brother?" Celeborn asked in a level, patient tone of voice. He expected his children and his students to find answers by themselves, when he felt that they could reason something out. 

After thinking for a moment, Haldir answered, "Because he is such a small elfling. He doesn't always remember to wipe his feet upon entering the talan when it is raining outside. He does not remember to don his warm cloak when the season turns cold in the new year, so it is...not possible, really, for him to make any oath, on his honor. He has honor; but it does not extend beyond the things which he knows and can remember."

"Very good." Celeborn told Haldir, a note of pride in his voice. "That is exactly why. Rumil knows that he is not to go outside by himself, that it worries us, and that he will be in trouble for it. That is sufficient, for now. Besides," Celeborn added with a wry smile, "It was Rumil who left us a note when the three of you disappeared, if you'll recall." 

Haldir yawned, the lure of sleep becoming impossible to deny. "We thought that we were protecting all of us." He protested, eyes blinking as he fought weariness. 

Celeborn shook his head at his oldest adopted son, admonishing, "We are the adults, remember, ion-nin. If there is protecting to be done, we will do it. You are to concentrate on following your healer's orders, and on giving your lessons your best efforts." Celeborn's expression turned to rueful amusement, as he added, "Well, and also on keeping your brothers in line, but that, too, is primarily our responsibility." 

Haldir murmured agreement, his eyes closing just as Celeborn tucked the blankets around him. He was barely aware when Celeborn pressed a gentle kiss to his brow. 

By the following spring, Haldir's leg had healed well. He was able to be back about his training and his normal activities, but on cold and damp days, he often found himself back at their talan. His adoptive mother and Silwen would take turns to keeping him company and amusing him on such mornings, so that he wouldn't be tempted to push himself. Haldir didn't protest at the time, because he didn't realize that it was coddling. It took Haldir time to realize that Celeborn and Galadriel were in turns austere and comforting, just as Emlyn and Carys had been. But austerity and comfort are forms of love, and in time Haldir did realize that he had been blessed with a second set of parents who truly loved him. It was Rumil, rather than clever Orophin, who had realized it first, for he was the most clear-seeing of the three brothers when it came to matters of the heart. And it was clever Orophin who knew it last, because he had the hardest time giving his trust.


	10. Belegaeron's Granddaughters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elf called Belegaeron had four granddaughters. Ice, Wind, Fire and Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory on DH AU Nimrodel and Mithrellas, and the OCs Rian and Carys.

Belegaeron had four granddaughters. Ice, Wind, Fire and Earth. 

Ice: 

"Not good enough. Again." 

Nimrodel agreed. She raised her sword again. She always was her grandfather's favorite. 

Strong and proud, but bitter and cold like ice, it would be she who turned against him the most harshly. Nimrodel could not bend, not for her grandfather, not for her sisters, and not for King Amroth, whom she loved. Belegaeron had looked at her and seen his mother. She was like his mother, in some ways. But in others, she was like his father. What doesn't bend, must break. 

 

Wind: 

"Is there nothing in your head but air?" He demanded. 

Rian took her eyes from the butterfly reluctantly. It never failed to amaze her that the pretty winged thing had once been a caterpillar. 

"Are you even listening?" Belegaeron asked intently, his calm cutting more than his fire. 

Rian hadn't been. She hardly ever did. She could never compare to Nimrodel and she was not particularly inspired to try. It was easier to just float through life, so that was what she did. 

But Belegaeron never gave up on her. And when the time came to fight, she could, because he had taught her. When the time came to wait, she could, because he had been patient with her, in his own way. And when the time came to live again, Rian could do that too. She was the survivor. That, too, she had learned from her grandfather. 

Fire: 

"And...just so." 

Mithrellas pulled the sword from the fire, and plunged it into the water. Nimrodel was grandfather's favorite, but Mithrellas was a promising smith. It gave her a special place, in grandfather's heart. So had her temper, in a backwards way. Her parents hadn't known what to do about her toddler rages. Her grandfather had carried her into the woods and left her there. In retrospect, it had been cruel, but effective. He seemed to love her for the flaw, and even more for having mastered it. 

Still, Mithrellas didn't compete with Nimrodel; the other elleth was enough older that it didn't make sense. 

But she did play the mediator; Grandfather liked her, but not as much as Nimrodel. 

She got on with Nimrodel - they were both hard-workers. 

Mithrellas could get Rian to do things that no one else could. Mithrellas knew how to take raw ore and let it tell her what it should become, and how it should be shaped. She did much the same for Rian. 

And later for Celebrimbor, whom she loved and served. And then, much later, for Imrazor, whom she loved and married. 

Earth: 

Carys was a surprise. Nimrodel raised her. Mithrellas should have, because she was Carys' sister, not just her cousin. But Mithrellas was in Eregion, and grandfather had never really known how to raise a little elleth anyway, despite having given birth to three of them, and caring for Nimrodel as well. 

Nimrodel was strong and beautiful. Just like Belegaeron, she demanded nothing less than perfection. Carys got away with being imperfect. It always baffled Rian and later Mithrellas, but Carys was the baby. Mostly, no one minded. 

Grandfather trained Carys, too, but Nimrodel helped quite a bit. Carys was not particularly interested, but she learned because she had to. Belegaerons' granddaughters did not have a choice. Grandfather died, and Nimrodel bound them all by an oath. 

Later, Carys made a choice. His name was Emlyn, and he was beautiful. Less so than the average elf, but Carys didn't care. She broke oath with her sisters, and bore Emlyn three beautiful sons. 

Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil were Belegaeron's first great-grandchildren, but they would not be his last. Mithrellas' children spilled his blood into the lines of the Dol Amroth Princes and the Lords of Anfalas, and eventually into all of the noble houses of Gondor and its allies, including the House of the Stewards and the Kings of Rohan. Rian's children were the first grandchildren of the elven King of the Greenwood - his foster-son's children, and not his own blood, but loved all the same. 

Almost all of Belegaeron's line, no matter how distant, could sing beautifully. Some things ran in the blood. And other things, fortunately, did not. Or at least, could be mastered.


End file.
